Best Cobble Poems
All your fears
Trembling thoughts
Add to uneasiness
You can't see beyond this moment
You can't grasp the intent
The impact it might have
You have not walked this road before
The cobble stones might hinder you
You were chosen for today
Way before you could fathom your will
It's in the baby steps
In the calmness of your core
Draw your strength from your soul
The silent yet loudest cheerleader
Of them all
@141020142015
Internal Rhyme
The Sonic of the earth’s plate tectonics was given birth
By the unbalanced wobble of the earth
While the wobbling of the natural earth
By carnal mind invention, was given birth
By the carnal act reversing Love’s intention
This is how the earth reveals how Love feels
About the mind’s rejection of Love’s perfection
Earth reels to and fro as a drunk man on the go
Now by our earth’s wobble, our earth is gobbled
Recycling itself, until nothing is left
Of reflected self of carnal human race
With the carnal mind’s every day fast pace
Purity of earth’s internal fire, in a race
It will devour, the external nature
The carnal nature of carnal wager
Made with the man, concerning Love’s plan
By Love, the Dove, giving life it’s stand
Earth in it’s perfection, but mind’s rejection
Which be reverse of Love’s balanced intention
Previously mentioned, by man in God’s plan
Continues to wobble as humans cobble
The carnal mind’s extent, to it’s own intent
Sowing extensions of strife, instead of life
Recompensing together, disregards weather
The signs of the times that lines, within the minds
Of the wise virgins, of truth’s purgation
From the intention, of carnal mind invention
Note: Just a little something my heart gave me, explaining why our earth wobbles on it axis.
I am sure some minds will think this is too simple to take serious. I am sure also our earth’s
weather would be calm if it’s rotation was in balance. The mind’s logic, is it own worse
enmity!
there is no better way to greet the morning sun
than with a hot croissant and café au lait
on a quaint terrace in the mecca of fashion elegance
striking a pose à la Coco Chanel
before hitting the perfumeries
and climbing the heights of the Eiffel Tower
to get that bird’s eye view of the Seine
and watch twilight descend on Paris
as street lights burst in clusters
catching her running down the cobble streets
... just like a real live Cinderella
AP: 1st place 2025, 3rd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2021
*if ya wanna add some sillies, hop on the wagon!
After the feast, Tommy was gone
Hen said, "Don't worry, won't be for long."
"He'll reincarnate,
Just sit and wait."
"He's not just SOME - POET, Tommy's a song."
"He's always a gas, loads of fun,
With plenty of wit and good with a pun."
"If you miss him,
Be sure to kiss 'em,
When he comes again to shine like the sun."
By Jan Allison:
When he struts it engorges his snood
Oh my goodness that really sounds rude
It dangles from his beak
You must go take a peek
See Tom is the king of his brood.
By ilene bauer:
He was missed, though, by all of his group
Who felt bad he was out of the loop
So they jotted some rhymes
Thinking 'bout those good times
Now he's brought back to life on the soup!
By Alexis Y:
Tommy the turkey is not gone
He's hibernating and listening to a song
When he comes back
His strut won't be whack
Maybe this time he'll arrive with loud gong
By rogerPAT Adams:
When he struts it's more of a wobble
No matter if ground, grass or cobble
Though it might seem rude
When he's in the mood
I've heard he loves to gobble!
By Jack Ellison:
Tommy can be very rude at times
But down deep, his star really shines
His heart glows bright
Nothing bad I can write
Like his author, he's a master of rhyme"
Fuchsia panels
Standing parallel, like soldiers standing to attention
Push them forward, and venture onward
Like a woodpecker pecked cloth spread across the atmosphere
A permeable shelter of green does cover the cobble below
The darks and the lights of the jades and the emeralds
Add shimmer and flatness to this world of calm
Suspended from somewhere, someplace above
Hang scattered hues of violet
Almost candy floss like
Breaking up and breaking through the veil of green
Clusters of red also
Climbing up, up
Reaching towards the skies
Though forever trapped within their own dwelling
Observe, the kaleidoscope of colours
.............................................
And then, once more, the fuchsia panels
Standing parallel, like soldiers standing to attention
Push them forward - and leave behind…
the sea winds calling
calling beach tides thrilling
thrilling woodlands for hiking
hiking along streams vibrant
vibrant wildlife still sprawling
sprawling plant life enthralling
enthralling cobble streets for strolling
strolling perfection in a New England town ~~
a New England town of actual living sounds -
sounds like I should permanently settle down:
Leading a simple life are solid folk.
Many fish the sea for their living.
In city life, they would be slowpokes,
but here time is for deep breathing.
Old lighthouses dot an idyllic coast
and fishing boats fill the scenic harbors.
There’s shellfish aplenty for dining ardor.
Many inns are old homes of lace and charm,
reminiscent of America’s youth.
There are old horse bridges and farms
built when pride was America’s truth.
There is much history to relish
and nature that stirs one zealous.
New England is the good life embellished
and an address that I would cherish.
Fortress
Stone by weathered cobble I build,
calloused hands ache in sweet surrender
Mortar’d affection of a coalesced consistency,
mixed and blended, bound by love’s tether
Stacking to heights of protective design
Patterned on roaming hillsides, serpentine wanderings,
Lush green fields crawl, blue sky diversions,
as song birds whistle to the day
And I sweat, my brow now drenched,
muscles pushed to horizonary boundaries,
tattered clothes sway in late afternoon breezes
Still I push on, fitting, finding, filling this need
Something so precious as glistening morning dreams,
crystalline musings, fragile bisque castings
Destined for my world, beyond battlefield dawns,
sifting serene country settings…quiet peace
The long day ends, I marvel at my accomplishment
steadfast and suited to defend in sunset flames,
turrets of observative reachings soar above
timber and heavy iron chain…gated sanctuary
Now my love you may rest…
beneath starry heavens and comet renderings,
upon your bed of satin feathered sighs as with my love,
I have built this fortress…around your heart
**I was listening to the Sting song “Fortress around your heart” and was inspired to write this one.
And for those who noticed, yes I did make up a few words, but I’ll just invoke “poetic license” in those cases : )
My room is a mess - it's an archaeological record of boredom.
Christmas, Christmas, come on Christmas.
It's 4 days 'til Christmas. Why don't I go to my room and do NOTHING??
The clock ticking sounds like a large horse clomping over cobble stones.
Last year there were wall-to-wall parties - so many that you had to carry a change of clothes with you.
In 2020 there's nothing to do - but I don't have to tell YOU (my reader). Except for the whole school thing. Nothing to do but study. I read, on that webber-net thing that 38% of students are failing.
Because of the pandemic - oh, not that virus monster - the boredom pandemic - the London-tower-lonely state of slow-motion distress that’s invisibly gripped us all.
Can we hold on people? The hard-won, delicious truth is that there’s hope. Vaccines - a bunch of 'em. Is it possible to let worries go this season and simply treasure our lives?
Just this month we have or had Hanukah, Kwanza, Festivus.
Hopefully, you made wild, monkey-love on December 14th - that was "International Monkey Day" - I couldn't join you - of course - but I'm just sayin. =]
Look it up - almost every day is some kind of celebration or invent your own - if Ice Cream Day, Lemon Cupcake Day, Go Caroling Day or Crossword Puzzle Day don't do it for ya.
The important gifts, this year, are fun, attention and love.
On a starless rainless night
'fore my eyes...
The last of the snow-hill,
Wind-blown...
Melts
Left...
Is wet-marks,
On cobble-stone
Till, the next snowflake...
.
.
.
.
.
Drops
We live in a romance novel, one with misery and dread
Where thoughts come to perform in our twisted heads
View and suspicion, leaving us dead
A vacant shell of what life we once led
Lost in the shadows, once alone and so cold
Looking for love, weeping for someone to hold
Like roses wandering down to the snow
Lying like blood on the cobble stones
Beneath the darkness of the light moon
I lay and hear a howling tune
Carried to my ear by the sorrowing wind
Listening to it I find I am again
I hear a voice so soft and so sweet
It carries to me a vision of mi petit
My love, my one and only
Kissing you through my dreams, we’ll no longer be lonely
I sleep my life away in the day
So that at night you can come to play
And I will be within your arms
If you will have me as your girl
No longer do I find this story sick
And my life I feel is no more a wreck
With you besides me in my heart
And promising that we’ll never be apart
I say today to whisper here
We live in a romance novel
This time without the tears
Of you and me falling free
I am yours, and you are all I need
He walks through murky puddles cobble stone
City full of busy sounds and movements
Time advancing enhancing improvements.
Passer-byers in the youthful sunny' hours
Social complexity of daily life
Yearning at the hand's fundamental strife.
With his organ strapped over his shoulder,
Brightly coloured, moving from place to place.
The cutest monkey, large grin on its face.
Round its neck a chain hooked to its collar.
It sits wearing a red little outfit
Trimmed in white, fancied its spirited wit.
Swishing its long tail, holding a tin cup
Dancing to music, a spark in its eye
Collecting coins from giving passersby.
While the organ grinder cranks his organ
He moves from place to place, to avoid arrest.
Laws obtain change, loitering, hard expressed.
do not look for me
among gravestones by black attire
once chiselled ergo sum
but instead a mother’s arms
a womb from whence laid cobble stones
I paved in tears, in many strides
and tread along forever
then glistening bud
and falling leaf
find me somewhere in between
where I’ve sat
among scenes of many views
the hourglass and all its sand
a grain within grains, find me
and shall not all ends
deliver all beginnings
Another night, as thoughts continue
Churning hours of sleep to a few
Some things lately, don't have a reason
But, answers will unfold with the season
Sometimes you come, to visit my mind
Bringing to me words profoundly kind
The dark of night doesn't seem to blind me
Because, your descriptions of scenes, I will see
Maybe you will walk through doors of my dreams
Where you bring all the sweet magic it seems
Maybe, we'll walk cobble streets in the snow
Looking at frosted, colored lights that glow
Maybe our hands clasped, will never let go
Of all that we share, to forever bestow
Heidi Sands
12/1/21
The man in the alley is insane.
Syphilis eats at his brain.
All dressed in black,
he is ready to attack.
He stalks in the dark of night,
trying to stay out of sight.
A certain type he wants to find.
Whores,filthy whores screams in his mind !
A door opens at a nearby Inn.
Laughter for a moment and silence again.
The click-clack of heels on cobble stone,
as a woman of the night walks home.
A short scream then a moan,
as flesh is cut from bone.
He can hear the music of wind chimes,
as he stabs fourteen times.
He feels joy at her last breath.
Justification is somehow felt by her death.
Her suffering and demise brings delight,
as he disappears into the night.
Bricks and mortar vs. feelings, and emotion,
Binding ties, suspensions cabling, connecting
Generational divides, blood stones legacy, uniting
Distant shores these are the bridges of emotional
Tides, a streams current flowing beneath our kindred
Souls.
Red cobble stone streets running downwards,
To a fine points country road, from the cradle,
Unto the grave marker, these venues of relevancy,
Merge the binding chains of reinforcement’s foundation.
Cohesion melting bolts secure, the rough edges of
Traditions uniqueness of variations design, is a shifting
Earthquake zone, yet in beauty the grand
Vision holds fast together with loves divine, and
Tender care.
Hands extended across the ages linking us,
Photo albums pictures of black and white faces,
Smiling, memories legends passed from the spoken
Words remembrances, we are the total sum
Of all these special linkages.
Inheritances stepping stones of brilliance shimmering
Beneath the light of the eternal sun, elemental children
Of oxygen, inhaling, exhaling the vaporous air of generations
Long scene past.
Bricks and mortar vs. feelings, and emotion,
Binding ties, suspensions cabling, connecting
Generational divides, blood stones legacy, uniting
Distant shores these are the bridges of emotional
Tides, a streams current flowing beneath our kindred
Souls.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN